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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30041139">the memory of stars, scratched in blood</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeatriixExtrange/pseuds/BeatriixExtrange'>BeatriixExtrange</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallen London | Echo Bazaar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambition: Heart's Desire (Fallen London), Flying Lessons, Gen, Spoilers, The Vake's identity, veils is right, veils thinks this is flirting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 14:06:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30041139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeatriixExtrange/pseuds/BeatriixExtrange</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The monster’s claws wrap around your body in a lethal embrace, leaving faint trails of blood in their wake. You can feel hot breath on your neck, the ghost of fangs on your skin, then it’s gone, flying back up to its previous position. It screeches, and you understand.<br/>It’s playing with you, like a child with its food.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the memory of stars, scratched in blood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Since I found out about this particular ending to Heart's Desire I've been practically vibrating. And if Failbetter won't give me the answers I want, I'll have to painstakingly construe them from little canon crumbs and sheer force of imagination.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You enter through the Ormolu Door once again, as you have done so many times before, and as you will so many times still. Today no Red Science awaits you; you both anticipate and dread those visits, but they are not the only ones you pay. There’s been classes, and lessons, and teachings on Curator culture, customs and politics. You hadn’t realised until you had stated your Heart’s Desire just how much you didn’t know. A whole universe of untapped knowledge, now ever-so-slowly being unwoven between your fingers.</p>
<p>You smell Wines before you see it; it is waiting for you for today’s lesson. Wines is usually the one at the head of these classes, you suspect it is because the other Masters aren’t as willing to deal with you as it is. You’ve spent the better part of the last decades winning them over, getting to know them, but there are some that still regard you as less, as incomplete. No matter. You only need to know where they stand to anticipate their movements.</p>
<p>“Cards!” Wines calls. “We’ve been waiting. I hope you’ll find today’s lesson on the rules of Bargaining illuminating.”</p>
<p>You sigh inwardly. It sounds incredibly tedious, although necessary, as so many things are. Your wings tremble slightly, already getting cramped under the heavy robes at the perspective of the hours of class ahead of you. </p>
<p>“How are you adjusting?” Wines asks, noticing the movement. “Have you practiced, as we suggested?”</p>
<p>“Yes. Sitting is harder than I thought it would be; I can see now why you all favour standing up.” It offers an almost apologetic smile. A human wouldn’t have been able to see it under the cowl. “They are still weak, and get cramped easily, specially when wearing the robe for a long time. Thankfully the Bazaar has really high spires to stretch. The view is beautiful from the top.”</p>
<p>“That is it, my friend. You should have seen the First City when it fell. Humans were but starting to discover civilization. It was almost endearing, but there was so much raw feeling. So much love.” It is looking past you now, lost in its memories. It blinks slowly before continuing. “In any case, take care of them. They will be powerful someday, but also fragile.”</p>
<p>“I will keep it in mind. I was actually thinking of going out for a while tonight, try them outside.”</p>
<p>“A wonderful idea! Do be mindful of not being too conspicuous, lest the humans see you.”</p>
<p>“And what if they do?” A voice asks from behind you. Veils. You hadn’t heard it approaching. “Let them see. They wouldn’t even know what they were seeing anyway.”</p>
<p>“Veils” you greet, hiding your surprise. Veils rarely acknowledges you; it doesn’t go out of its way to pester you as Pages does, but doesn’t help you either. <em> Charity is a crime</em>, you remind yourself. Still, it would be to be expected that at least <em> one </em>of your ventures aligned itself with its interests.</p>
<p>“So you’re finally getting to the fun part. About time.” Veils sizes you up with its green eyes. “Wines, I hope you don’t squash whatever instinct we’ve spent decades coaxing out of this meager human body with your endless rambling about Days and Order.”</p>
<p>You’d argue that your body is far from human at this point, but Wines interjects before you can voice your thoughts.</p>
<p>“You’d probably benefit from some refreshing on the Order of Days” it says it calmly, but it is clear there’s something else, something you’re missing, judging by the way Veils’ nostrils flare. “You’re welcome to join us if you wish.”</p>
<p>“No. In fact, I think it’s time I did my part on the education of our latest Mr Cards, wouldn't you agree?” It’s talking as if you weren’t there, and for a moment you consider slipping out into the shadows and leaving them to their devices, but then Veils pierces you with its gaze, as if it knew what you were thinking. “Come. It’s high time you learnt something useful.”</p>
<p>Veils grabs your arm, claws digging into the fabric of your robe all the way to your flesh, and pulls you behind it through the dark corridors of the Bazaar. You soon arrive in front of one of the biggest windows, near the spires that serve as the Masters' —and your— chambers. </p>
<p>Veils releases you then, and unceremoniously undoes the fastenings that hold its robes in place, letting a myriad of layers methodically fall to the floor. It looks at you expectantly.</p>
<p>“What exactly are you doing?” you ask, not even trying to conceal how you’re studying its body. You’ve been explained Curator anatomy, of course, and have seen some of it in the mirror, but this is the first time you see it for yourself in full. It is magnificent, but you cast your questions from your mind, for now.</p>
<p>“Undress” Veils commands. “Unless you’re going to fly like that.”</p>
<p>“Where are we going?”</p>
<p>Veils growls, exasperated. “Prickfinger Wastes.” It says it like it were talking to a little child. “You need to learn. It’s far from the city, no humans will bother us there.”</p>
<p><em> And it is incredibly dangerous</em>, you think, letting your robe slide down your shoulders. Blood pumps in your ears, and you feel the adrenaline work its magic on your senses, sharpening them even more.</p>
<p>Veils doesn’t spare you a look, simply opens the window and flies into the night.</p><hr/>
<p>It is fast, and doesn’t slow down for you. You fly in its wake, your wings are still small, but they are enough to keep up, for now. You know this isn’t its top speed. </p>
<p>You fly over London, past Wolfstack Docks and the busy streets of Spite, until Mrs Plenty’s Carnival is beneath you, and soon behind you. You fear someone on the streets below will look up and see you, but none do. Veils doesn’t seem concerned.</p>
<p>It suddenly stops midair and turns to face you. Prickfinger Wastes lays beneath you, the sharp stalagmites glinting like a surgeon’s razors, waiting for their next taste of blood.</p>
<p>“Do you bring all your dates here?” you ask, trying to ease the menacing edge between you.</p>
<p>“Silence.” It looks unfazed, but its eyes glimmer with the promise of entertainment. Veils’ definition of entertainment usually doesn’t end well for the entertainer. “This lesson doesn’t require you to speak, so don’t.”</p>
<p>You bite back your answer, and instead raise your eyebrow, waiting for it to continue.</p>
<p>“It’s time you learnt something real about being a Curator. Flying, hunting, it is the first and foremost instinct we have, as much as hoarding. So you’ll learn it, or you’ll perish.” You look at Veils, trying to look unimpressed at the casual threat. “Many children die during their first flights. I hope you’ll measure up to this task. Most infants do.”</p>
<p>You don’t take the bait, and instead reroute the conversation slightly. “You know, I almost went for the Vake.”</p>
<p>Veils looks at you, its eyes squinting ever so slightly in the darkness. It doesn’t know where you’re going with this. It doesn’t look surprised that you know the identity of the Vake, either.</p>
<p>“When I first came to London, before I learnt about the Marvellous. I overheard some hunters at the Medusa’s Head talk about the reward for killing it. Four million echoes. I was tempted, but then swayed by… another venture.”</p>
<p>It doesn’t answer for a long moment, then lets out a growl resembling a vicious laugh. “I would have <em> devoured </em>you.”</p>
<p>“Maybe.” <em> Probably</em>, you concede. “Or maybe not. This situation would be very different if I had, in any case.”</p>
<p>“Would it?” Veils asks, its sharp smile showing all of its sharp teeth. “Let’s find out.”</p>
<p>You don’t have time to ask what it means before Veils throws itself at you, fangs first and claws outstretched, with every intent to kill. You barely have time to dodge and sprint in the opposite direction before it lunges again, its teeth grazing your leg as you escape as fast as you can.</p>
<p>The Vake screams in delight, finally able to pursue a worthy prey, as it chases you through the Wastes. It darts down, like a falcon about to sink its talons on a dove, forcing you to dive closer to the stalagmites. It does it again, and again, until you’re practically flying between the spikes, narrowly avoiding the sharp edges.</p>
<p>Which, you realise too late, is what it intended. </p>
<p>Your eyes aren’t fully made for the darkness yet, so even with your full attention focused on not being impaled on the stalagmites you can’t avoid every angular crystal. The Vake thrusts again towards you, and you duck, scraping your arm against one of the spikes. It’s not a deep cut, but it is enough to pull your attention for a moment, and the Vake takes its chance to attack once more. You try to avoid it, turning in the air and out of its grasp, but aren’t fast enough, its claws scraping across the flesh of your abdomen. Your skin is nowhere near as thick as a Curator’s, but you manage to pull back enough so as not to get badly injured. Taking advantage of your position, you kick it in the chest, pushing yourself away from it and fleeing again.</p>
<p>The Vake laughs, a terrible sound that resonates like thunder on the stalagmites. You can smell the blood of your wounds, and you know it can too. It is above you, the false stars in its wings melting with the false stars of the roof. It dives down, and this time it’s too fast, giving you no time to react before it’s upon you. The last thing you think before it reaches you is that it’s beautiful, in the way dangerous things are.</p>
<p>The monster’s claws wrap around your body in a lethal embrace, leaving faint trails of blood in their wake. You can feel hot breath on your neck, the ghost of fangs on your skin, then it’s gone, flying back up to its previous position. It screeches, and you understand.</p>
<p>It’s playing with you, like a child with its food.</p>
<p>This game repeats itself a couple more times, with the Vake circling above you until it charges, running its claws through your skin, shallow gashes blooming on your body like red-lipped kisses placed by a lover. A death by a thousand cuts. You’re starting to get tired, still unused to flying for long. You need to do something, and fast. Right now, you’re the little rabbit, and Veils is the predator, completely in control, toying with its prey until it gets bored and kills it. </p>
<p>The next time it goes to attack, you’re prepared. You dodge to the side, careful not to accidentally hit any spikes, and hit back, sinking your own claws into leathery wings. You remember what Wines had said: <em> ‘take care of them. they will be powerful someday, but also fragile.’ </em> The Vake hasn’t tried to attack your wings yet. It would end the fun, after all. </p>
<p>The monster screeches, a chilling scream that would make lesser beings hide in terror, and tries to back up, but you give it no chance. You follow it, readying to strike again, determined to prove that you are no rabbit.</p>
<p>But it is Veils after all, so of course it can’t be so easy. It grins with wicked delight when it sees you sprinting towards it, and instead of fleeing as you had hoped, it just waits. It’s too late to slow down now, so you brace for impact too. </p>
<p>The clash reverberates throughout the Wastes; a powerful, ancient power being put to the test, something as ancient as the will to survive, and the instinct to kill. The monster’s fangs close around air, desperately searching for your neck, eager to pull flesh from bone, to taste the sweet despair of the blood pumping through your veins as it revels in the climax of the hunt. You manage to keep it at bay, your own claws reaching behind its head, grabbing at its horns in an attempt to pull its maw away from your body.</p>
<p>The Vake growls, its eyes burning in the darkness like the stars far above, mimicking the pulsing stars of its wings. There’s <em> need </em>in them, something deeper than simple pleasure, like a caged animal runs itself to death for the dream of freedom, like a moth searching for that blinding light that will be its end. </p>
<p>And in that moment, you understand. For the first time, you truly <em> see </em>Veils. You could have had a thousand classes and read a million treatises and never understood this fundamental truth about the Masters: they are trapped, just as much as the Bazaar is. All the power and influence in seven cities will never satisfy them, for this is not their home, and they are not made to be bound to one place. </p>
<p>You look at Veils and see the Vake, and what lays beyond; centuries of being a Master of the Bazaar, of doing its bidding, of being a servant, hiding beneath heavy robes and human language. You look at Veils and see the untamed beast on a leash it has been reduced to, lost in the memory of the slaughter, fangs bared in a reflex it can no longer exert.</p>
<p>A true monster, an apex predator, made to roam the vastness between stars. Forced into a hollow mirror of the self, following a borrowed dream for millenia. You can’t help but wonder about the cruel fate the Masters unknowingly accepted, chasing the promised land all the way down to the Neath. What would they say, had they known? Is it everything they expected, and more?</p>
<p>And what about you? You asked for this. It is your Heart’s Desire. Do you regret it? There’s two more cities before you can even taste your true reward, that phantom wind on your wings you felt in Pages’ honey-dream, years ago.</p>
<p>Two more cities until you can be free.</p>
<p>No, you don’t regret it. You won’t make the same mistake they did. You will succeed where they failed, too blind by unfavourable circumstances to realise what they were agreeing to. You won’t be reduced to a tragedy procedure, dependent on honey-dreams and sphinxstone delirium, living inside memories to crawl through the days.</p>
<p>You won’t wait aeons to see the stars again.</p>
<p>You will survive, and take your place in the High Wilderness where you belong.</p>
<p>With newfound determination, you roar, a sound not unlike those made by the monster in front of you, as you kick it flat on the chest, pushing yourself away from the Vake. Before it can come back at you, you scream a word of fire: <em> a selfishness which would entail the loss of a friend. </em> It rolls almost painlessly off your tongue, a slight tingling all there is to it.  The word burns in the air between you, briefly illuminating its features. The light casts new fire in its starry eyes. </p>
<p>It stops, surprised, but it is enough for the Vake to lose its grip and for Veils to resurface. It is not the right word, you know that, but you were looking for something that would reach it in its deep maze, and it worked.</p>
<p>Veils grunts, its mouth still contorted on a fierce grimace.</p>
<p>“Do not dare call yourself ‘a friend’” it spits the word as if it were venom. “You’re little more than a human.”</p>
<p>“For now” you remind it, and Veils only glares at you. It does not like to be reminded.</p>
<p>There’s a moment of silence, and you gauge Veils’ reactions, trying to predict if it will attack you again. No, the raving rampage has passed. The Vake has been subdued, at least for a moment.</p>
<p>Finally, it speaks again. There’s less tangible threat in its words now, although the sharp edge remains. It always does, with Veils.</p>
<p>“Congratulations on your survival.” It looks at you, its face inescrutable. “You can now fly as well as an infant can.”</p>
<p>It doesn’t give you a chance to reply, disappearing into the night sky with a blur. It was definitely toying with you —its <em> prey— </em>; there’s no way you would have stood a chance if it had moved at that speed.</p>
<p>Once alone, you feel the adrenaline high starting to wear off, and are suddenly very aware of your wounds. You allow yourself a moment, a sigh of relief, before you take off again, back to the Bazaar. The people on the streets below, and your previous concerns about their actions, look so faraway now. You don’t care. Let them see, and know they wouldn’t comprehend. Veils was right: you’ve learnt something useful tonight. </p>
<p>A god doesn’t concern itself with the existence of ants. What do the Judgements concern themselves with, then?</p>
<p>You arrive at your personal spire and almost collapse from exhaustion. You drag yourself to the —human— bed in your chamber, not caring about the traces of blood you leave on everything you touch. You won’t die. The rest is irrelevant, and a problem for tomorrow.</p>
<p>You almost don’t notice the letter resting on your pillow. You take it with cautious hands. It smells faintly of sandalwood. It doesn’t look dangerous, but it is written in the Correspondence. There are three sigils scorched on the paper: <em> the reassessment of one’s opinion about an unpleasant matter, the sharing of a bond between hunters who thought themselves alone, </em>and the personal sigil of Mr Veils.</p>
<p>An invitation, then. The letter burns shortly after, unable to withstand the sigils anymore. You watch it be consumed before climbing into bed and sleeping better than you have in weeks.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So my Seeking alt is trying to bag a legend and let me tell you, Hating is starting to lose its appeal. For a monster trying to kill you the Vake surely likes to flirt with its prey.</p>
<p>Thank you for reading, let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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